Taming of the Jew
by coffeeink
Summary: Cartman initiates a betting pool with a win of 500 dollars for whichever male can tame and escort to prom the fiery ball of obduracy that is Kyla Broflovski. Stan wonders if this is the worst possible time to realize he is in madly in love with her. Unabashed gender bender.
1. Chapter 1

**I really just felt like doing something light-hearted, something teen rom-com-esque. Here is the result!  
**

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' _Good Morning South Park! I'm Lindsey Logan and I'll be bringing you our top stories shortly, but first here's a nice melody to get you up and moving from The Bellamy Brothers.'_ As the opening bars of _Let Your Love Flow_ rang out of Stan's tinny radio he sighed and wound the window down again, the September chill infiltrating the car.

"HURRY UP KY!" He yelled at the green clapboard house before tapping his fingers on the steering wheel irritably. What on Earth was she doing in there? When she had yelled down from the window ten minutes previous she had been fully dressed, hadn't she? Stan's impatience had him doubting himself. He leaned out the window once more: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET YOUR-" Stan jumped as the front door to the house swung open suddenly and a short but domineering figure stepped out on to the porch.

"Stanley Marsh!" Mrs Broflovski called. "What do you think you're doing screaming like a banshee outside my house?" She scolded him before adding: "A gentlemen would have come inside to wait, not hollered after my daughter like a New Yawk cabbie."

Stan gripped the wheel nervously now. Even though he had been acquainted with Mrs Broflovski since he was a child and knew her to be perfectly harmless if not strict, all four foot nine of her still set him on edge. "Sorry Mrs Broflovski." He offered as he ran his hand through his hair to steady his nerves. "Is Kyla ready yet? Only we'll be late for homeroom if she-" As if on cue a fiery haired whirlwind shot past Mrs Broflovski toward Stan. She was still in the process of chewing half a piece of toast in her mouth, her backpack and jacket swung from her arms and her thick soled boots pounded on the porch steps like thunder.

"Kyla!" Her mother cried, evidently caught off guard. "What-"

"Bye ma!" Kyla called over her shoulder having swallowed her rushed breakfast. As she slammed the passenger door of Stan's car she stared at him incredulously and Stan froze, completely paralyzed under her gaze.

"What are you doing?" She asked. "Drive doofus!"

"Right, of course." Stan cleared his throat and fumbled with the key in the ignition. As they breezed along the road Kyla wound the window down and stuck her booted feet up on the dashboard with a contented sigh.

"I can't believe we're seniors this year!" She announced. "I can remember freshman year like it was yesterday…"

"Yeah, and you were late then too." Stan commented, however Kyla only laughed. Kyla had one of the most distinctive laughs Stan had ever heard. Although, and he felt he had the right to say this as her childhood friend and closest confidante, distinctive was…subjective. Kyla's laugh was no girly giggle; it was loud, resonant, and powerful. While it wasn't grating or nasal or a cackle, it still made heads turn. Stan personally thought it was, quite simply, amazing. However he knew others, Eric Cartman cough, cough, who would shudder when they heard it.

"There's coffee in the thermos." Stan offered. Kyla dove for it, sighing happily as she clutched the thermos in her hands.

"Ah, I love you." Kyla sighed, before adding: "You do remember that we're supposed to be meeting everyone at the diner though? First day of school and all?" However, she lapped up the coffee enthusiastically.

"Well, actually, I was kind of wondering if you wanted to do our own thing this year. Petey's off of Elm Street does those amazing quadruple stack pancakes."

Kyla had spent the summer in Washington D.C on a special politics programme for A.P students. She had been debating with other A.P students from across America and had brunches with real senators at the actual White House and it would look phenomenal on her college transcript. He only knew this because his girlfriend, Wendy, had applied for the same programme and been wait listed. Stan had spent his summer under the hood of his new truck while Wendy did laps around the garage lamenting because not only did she not have a backup summer programme but she didn't have any summer plans either. She had turned down a trip to Hawaii with her grandparents with the reasoning she was going to be in D.C.

"That sucks babe. It really does. I know how hard you worked and how much you wanted it, but so did Ky, so that's all the sympathy I can offer." Stan didn't mention how he thought Kyla had cinched it at the interview stage; she had been calm and happy whereas Wendy was too intense, too desperate to prove she was qualified that dare Stan say her downfall had been wanting it _too much._ Wendy had gone tight-lipped and quiet but knew she couldn't say anything. When she and Stan had begun a 'real' relationship in junior year the first time Wendy had mentioned Kyla and Stan's 'closeness' had been the last. Stan was firm: "I know it's not ideal, your boyfriend's best friend being a girl. However Kyla and I have been friends since we could walk, our families are secondary to each-other. I'm an honorary Broflovski son and she's an honorary Marsh daughter. If you have a problem with Kyla then this will never work." In all respect to her, Wendy had obliged.

Stan had picked Kyla up from the airport since her father was working the day she returned, while her mother's Sedan was in the shop. He had been undeniably excited as he'd spent all summer fixing up his new (second-hand) Trailblazer and for an '88 model it looked damn brand new. At arrivals Stan instantly spotted her, for despite inheriting her mother's stockiness Kyla's fiery curls made it impossible for her to blend in; thick, effulgent red curls, so dark that many people refused to believe wasn't henna dyed. When they were face to face Stan grinned and pulled out her trademark ushanka from behind his back, which Sheila Broflovski had positively forbidden her from taking to D.C: "No daughter of mine is meeting senators in that ugly thing!"

"Oh it's good to be home; darling I missed you." She'd sighed and kissed the hat.

However with a week before school started again that airport pick up was all Stan got to see of Kyla. Every time he called by it seemed her mother was whisking her off somewhere to see a relative or prepare for the upcoming senior year. Basically, Stan wanted his best buddy to himself for just a few hours, rather than having to share her with the rest of their friends. This however, was exactly the reason Kyla wanted to go to the diner. Her nose wrinkled and her freckles danced; she was unimpressed.

"Petey's? On the first day of _senior year?_ Blasphemy, Stanley! Heresy!"

"It was just a suggestion." Stan muttered, swinging his car on the road toward the diner. He could tell how much it meant to her to have one final year of tradition; Kyla was far more sentimental than Stan and Lord knows _he_ had a tough time letting anything go. ('A hoarder' the school councillor had told is mother, who thankfully had been adamant Stan would grow out of it and left him be.) So Stan obliged and chauffeured Kyla to the Three Pines diner. He sat in the corner of the booth and ate his eggs while Wendy cuddled up to him and planned out what they would do with the free period they both shared this semester. He knew her affection was genuine but also that she didn't want to listen to Kyla regale their peers with what she did over summer; Wendy wasn't bitter but she was proud. Stan on the other hand, didn't mind admitting his bitterness. He wanted his best friend to himself for a while, they had been stuck in traffic on the way home from the airport but that still only covered Kyla's summer adventures and briefly Stella's restoration (yes, Stan had named his car). Kyla had been busy ever since and he knew it wouldn't lighten up once the little brainbox started classes. He'd just wanted to see a bad horror movie with her or go on a late night drive to skim rocks across Stark's Pond like they always did over summer. Since Wendy commandeered shot gun in Stan's car from the diner to school, Kyla happily caught a ride in Token's shiny new Range Rover.

"This is so awkward because I used to date him but, don't you think Kyla and Token would make a cute couple?" Wendy's voice broke Stan's reverie as they drove.

"What?" He snorted. "No way. He's too…clean cut for Kyla. He has the brains for her yeah, but he couldn't climb a mountain with her. He'd be too concerned about getting his expensive, top of the range hiking boots dirty."

"True." Wendy laughed.

"Kyla," Stan found himself continuing. "Kyla doesn't care too much about intellect, she wouldn't date an idiot but she'd prefer someone who could get his hands dirty with her, to have fun."

"Like who?"

"Like-" Stan stopped himself suddenly; his cheeks grew scarlet. _You were going to say 'me', weren't you, idiot?_ He thought. _While your girlfriend is sat next to you. Dumbass._

"Stan? Why are you blushing?"

"Because…" Stan wanted to pretend to be engrossed in the road but he knew he couldn't avoid it. "Because I hate to admit that my best friend might be super compatible with…Kenny."

Wendy was quiet for a moment and Stan was wondering whether she actually had figured out his real answer, until she said: "Oh wow, I never realised it either, but Kenny and Kyla could actually work." His heart sunk more than he thought it would. No way. Kenny was too abrasive for Kyla, wasn't he? Stan had never been so eager to get to class.

At lunch Stan looked around for Kyla, however when he spotted her enclosed by several girls from their grade he decided he'd better regroup. He grudgingly joined Token, Kevin, Craig and Clyde and was promptly followed by Kenny. Stan didn't mind eating lunch with Token and Kevin, who were decent conversation, and Craig was tolerable most days; Clyde however, ate like a slob and grossed even Kenny out, who would pilfer whatever he could from everyone else's trays. It only got worse when Cartman, Butters and Tweek invited themselves over. Stan ate miserably as his peers bickered, belched and bullshitted.

"So," Kenny announced. "Cathy Shrager stuck her hand down my pants behind the gym this morning."

This was not how Stan had anticipated his senior year starting.

He knew Kyla hadn't forsaken him, she was just catching up with all her friends today; Stan wasn't her only friend in the world whether he liked that fact or not. He was just wanting for more…classy company.

"God, if any more people climb up Broflovski's ass she's gonna' have a hard time running track in gym." Cartman sneered. Stan blushed furiously as if Cartman had read his mind rather than the situation being mere coincidence. Luckily, nobody seemed to notice.

"Because Kyla actually spent her summer doing something interesting and productive Cartman." Token said. "Unlike you, who spent the entire summer playing video games in your mother's basement."

"Like I care about meeting shitty senators." Cartman snapped back. "If I wanted to have lunch with criminals I'd go over to Kenny's house and fight over a toaster waffle with his parents."

"Fuck off Cartman," Kenny retorted. "They were acquitted."

"Anyway," Stan interjected. "You're just pissed off because you don't like Kyla but everyone else does. Which is as ridiculous and petty as it sounds."

"Well of course you would think that Stan, you're her 'best friend', which is really creepy at this age might I add. Who else here actually _likes_ Kyla?" Cartman surveyed the table for a response. The boys all looked at each other in mutual agreement this was a stupid question.

"I like Kyla." Butters spoke up from the end of the table. "She always picks me for her team in gym."

"Yeah after everyone else, Butters." Clyde muttered before conceding: "Yeah I like Kyla."

"I think Kyla's great." Token added.

"See Cartman, stop being an asshole."

"I like Kyla but I don't think she likes me." Craig offered, a statement Cartman immediately seized upon.

" _Exactly._ Thank-you Craig Nathaniel Tucker." Cartman scoffed, ignoring Craig's following obscenities. "I hear you all singing the Jewesses' praise but I guarantee she doesn't return the sentiment."

"She does too." Stan glared. "Stop trying to drag her down Cartman, it's only the first day back."

"What? I'm just being real bruh." He glanced around again. "Fine, if you're all so convinced that Broflovski doesn't think she's better than all of you then how about we make things interesting?"

Stan's stomach knotted. "Hey, you've twisted everything Cartman, that's not what you first said."

Nobody noticed Stan's objection however as Kenny asked: "Interesting how?"

"I have received an early Christmas gift from my grandmother, who is literally crazy but hey I'm two hundred dollars richer." Cartman cleared his throat. "I think we should all add to this cash pot, make it nice and juicy like a Thanksgiving turkey, and whoever succeeds in getting Broflovski to go with them to Winter Prom also wins the whole pot."

The unimaginatively named 'Winter Prom' was for junior and senior classmen only, although sophomores were allowed providing they were someone's date. It was a concept designed to 'alleviate the winter blues' from supposedly hard working students, as if South Park weren't covered in snow for seventy percent of the year. Stan hadn't attended last year because he and Wendy had had a stupid fight over his bad habit of belching in public and his ever so mature response had been to retaliate with: 'Well I guess I'm not escorting you to Winter Prom.' Wendy had gone with a senior instead. Kyla, who found Stan's situation hilarious, went skiing with her family and proceeded to email him a picture a day of her on the slopes, in the hot tub, even one with Seth Wescott, one of Stan's favourite snowboarders who was taking a secret break at the same lodge. He was mad at her upon her return for all of five minutes until she presented him with Wescott's autograph and a bucket of salted caramel taffy.

Of course, the tables had turned. Everyone was a senior this year and it was their last chance to go to what was actually quite a fun night.

There was silence.

"No way," Clyde said. "You'd never part with two hundred dollars."

"Yuh huh Clyde; I would if I could turn it into more money you stupid dick." Cartman sighed. "It's called making a profit."

"What's the catch, Cartman?" Token asked. "Surely there's some rules, regulations of some sort…"

"Ah I knew I could rely on you Token." Cartman cleared his throat. "I am above all, a business man,"

"And a dick."

"And a racist piece of shit."

"Aye!" Cartman pounded his fist on the table to command their attention again. "To ensure a fair and efficient bet, there must be some rules and even exclusions. One, to participate in and possibly win the pool you have to have paid in yourself. Two, Broflovski cannot know about the pool, the point is to convince her to go with you on no other grounds than that you are secretly a charming gentleman or perhaps in Kenny's case a poor asshole but damn you're a sex-god-"

"It's true." Kenny commented. "It's a blessing and a curse."

"And finally," Cartman pointed at Stan. "Stan cannot participate on the grounds he is her butt buddy."

Stan glared. "Good. Even if I didn't have a girlfriend I wouldn't want to; this thing is stupid."

"Oh yeah, what about girlfriends?" Kevin Stoley finally spoke up. "I don't think Esther would see the funny side of this."

"Another clause, dudes with girlfriends are excluded, so Stan, Kevin and Clyde, see you later." Cartman jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"In that case I'm out too." Token held up his hands. "I've been Skyping Nichole on her exchange in France, when she returns to school in a couple of weeks we're going to give things another shot."

For some reason Stan's heart sang. Kyla and Nichole were really good friends; Kyla would never date Token if she knew he was involved with Nichole.

"Hey!" Clyde shouted. "I want in on a few hundred bucks! Why should I be excluded because I'm dating Bebe?"

Cartman grinned. "Fine Clyde I'll make you an exception, if you want in I'm not going to stop you, it only increases my winnings."

"You idiot Clyde." Craig sighed.

"I'm still going to refrain, but I'm willing to throw in some good money just to see Clyde participate." Token opened his wallet and pulled out a few crisp bills.

"Cartman," Kenny chirped up. "Can I bring my chip in by yours tonight? I don't have it on me just yet."

"Why, haven't stolen it yet?"

Stan could do nothing but watch as a steady but prosperous pool of money began to collect on the table. It had already begun.

* * *

 **See I even gave you music in the opening sequence, I should write a screenplay.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Finally able to update!**

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Stan didn't know what to do, damn it. Cartman had succeeded in to seducing the majority of their friends in to his stupid pool, which was now nearing four hundred and fifty dollars. While the psychotic ringleader's founding two hundred dollars had made for a comfortable push off point, Stan was still somewhat surprised at how generous his peers were being. However, he liked to think that rather than a lack of morals it was their greed for a quick buck; he had once seen Clyde eat gum from under a desk for ten dollars.

There was only one factor Stan felt comfortable in: that spitfire Kyla would never say yes to any of them. It was well known that she didn't date. She claimed it was her Jewish upbringing; her parents didn't approve of dating. Stan knew this was all bull. Kyla was far too pre-occupied in studying, bless the little nerd. It was for this reason Kyla blamed it on the unaware Gerald and Sheila Broflovski, she was popular, but even she wasn't popular enough to say she didn't date so it didn't interfere with her studies. Stan was the only one who could tease her (mercilessly) about it as he knew in reality how often her mother tried to set her up with the Jewish sons of friends.  
"You need to date in your own circle before it's too late Ky. If you keep this up throughout college when you graduate your only options will be Sheila's choices, Mrs Weinberg-Goldberg-Blumberg-Dunkelberger."  
"Stan, you know not all Jewish surnames end in 'berg'? Don't be racist just because your name is Marsh."  
"Is that racist?" Stan's cheeks coloured. Kyla looked affronted for a moment before bursting in to peals of her thunderous laughter at his face. She had a wicked sense of humour.  
Stan was in biology class, thinking about anything but biology. Next to him Kenny was already face-down on the blacktop, well in to his afternoon nap. At the front of class, marooned on their own blacktop island, were Kyla and Cartman. Damn the alphabet system. Kyla was scribbling away as usual, her fiery curls rippling as her head continuously glanced between notebook and chalkboard. Cartman either went to copy her notes, or maybe he felt Stan's heavy stare, when he looked over his shoulder and caught Stan's eye. The former glanced at Kyla then back at Stan and sneered. Stan's fists automatically clenched. Why was he such an asshole? The alphabet system had paired up Kyla and Cartman for many years now, much to the chagrin of both, though Stan could only justify Kyla's sentiments. Cartman was the grade asshole; always had been. Kyla could be prickly in a bad mood sure, but she was usually good tempered, willing to help, and damn hilarious company. Why didn't Cartman like Kyla? He was familiar with the notion that not everybody in life will like you, but Cartman seemed to take that a dozen steps further. The two had infamously always butt heads even since pre-school. It was for the reason Stan outlined at lunch: Cartman was an ass and Kyla wasn't only the first person to see through it but the first to call him out on it while everyone else ignored him. The rest of the time Kyla passively ignored him too; Cartman however, never ceased trying to drag Kyla down.

As if he knew he was riling Stan up just by being in-sight, Cartman openly leaned back from his desk in to the D row and on to Clyde's black-top. He whispered something to the brunette and Stan swore he saw a subtle thumb-jerk from Cartman toward Kyla. Clyde glanced at her and nodded at Cartman, who gave one last smirk at Stan before turning his back on him. M-row might as well have been in outer-space. The bell rang and Kenny jumped.  
"Osmosis!" He yelped.  
"Dude, it's the end of class. Chill." Stan muttered.  
"Phew, I thought Chlumsky was picking on me again."  
"It's not picking on you if you never pay attention." Just as Kenny launched in to usual self-defence spiel Stan heard from over his shoulder: "Clyde, I said _no."_ The two turned to find Clyde leaning back against Kyla's blacktop as she packed up her books, pushing his crotch out in what he seemed to think was enticing but was rather menacing.  
"Why not?" Clyde dished out a pout. "I'm hot, your hot, it's natural selection, it just makes sense."  
"Clyde, I'm not going out with you because you have a girlfriend; whom I'm good friends with might I add."  
Stan and Kenny glanced at each other.  
"He dived in too soon; he's drowned in the pool." Kenny shook his head in mock sadness. "Amateur."  
"Or, a crooked life guard…" Stan muttered, suddenly having a very good idea of what Cartman was whispering to Clyde.  
"Clyde." Kyla slammed her book on to the desk to stop his wheedling. "I'm not going on a date with you. I'm not going to Winter Prom with you. I want you to leave me alone because right now I don't even want to be in the same room as you." Clyde watched as she grabbed her book and pushed past him.  
"Kyla!" He called before throwing his arms in the air. "Well, FINE!"  
Kenny swaggered over with a grin.  
"Thanks Clyde; now comes the rest of us to play the 'good guy' to your jerk."  
"This isn't over!" Clyde protested. "I just went in too fast, scared her is all. She probably didn't think I'd ever be interested in her."  
"Clyde you're an ass." Stan said. As they filed out Stan couldn't help but query Kenny.  
"So, uh, you, is that how you're going to, try something with Kyla?"  
"I was just teasing the little pudding back there, but it's not a bad angle. The success rates are pretty high, unless you've always been a dick then it's just suspicious." Kenny stretched, sleeping on desks was causing all sorts of gip for his back. "Anyway, we've a little while yet; I need to consider if this is a worthwhile venture."  
"What do you mean?" Stan asked.  
"Well, even though I willingly contributed fifty dollars I suspect Cartman isn't going to make it as easy as he says. Kyla's not very interested in guys but I think even if someone does convince her to go to Winter Prom with them Cartman won't just release the kitty that easy."  
Stan was silent; he began to suspect Kenny was a lot more intelligent than he ever let on.  
"Mmm."  
"Have you asked Wendy yet?"  
"What?"  
Kenny laughed a little. "Have you asked your girlfriend to the dance yet? I know it's only September but this little gig has me realising how much ground-work goes in when you don't have a girlfriend already set aside."  
"Set aside? Kenny she's not a craft project." Stan shrugged. "Wendy knows we're going together, I don't have to ask her. I mean, who else would she go with?"  
"Frank Nardella." Kenny said without missing a beat, naming the senior who had escorted Wendy last time.  
"Fuck you dude."

If Kenny's plan had been to play the good-guy to Clyde's jerk then he didn't move fast enough. In fact, nobody did. Since Clyde's bull-headed attempt there had been an un-vocalized fall-back among the competitors. Nobody wanted to repeat his mistakes and get knocked out of the running or even give the game away to Kyla. Stan however, remained Switzerland. He wouldn't participate in conversation about the pool if the topic arose that day and neither did he allude anything to Kyla. He was sort of relishing the build-up actually, when Kyla would finally find out and go bat-shit crazy on Cartman. Heck, he was a fat bastard but she could probably still take him in a fight with a good punch.  
It was October when Kenny found Stan in the locker room after gym.  
"Craig Tucker stole my bit goddamit!" He seethed, yanking open his locker. "I was just about to put it into action too!"  
Stan emerged from under his towel after drying his hair. "He stole your what?" He frowned.  
"My bit. Y'know, my act, what I was going to use to woo Kyla."  
Stan's stomach clenched. "Wait, what? Is this about the pool? What happened?"  
"So I'm out there running track right," Kenny began gesticulating wildly. "And I'm running alongside Token and he's telling me about Nichole and I mention that I was thinking about asking Kyla out sometime soon, are you still with me?"  
"Yes Kenny, this is hardly the Da Vinci Code."  
"And Token says, oh, I guess you didn't hear about Craig, huh? So I said no, what did he set fire to now? Token says, nothing he's been acquitted. I meant he asked Kyla out this morning and she said yes. Apparently he went with the 'Clyde was trying to wingman me a few weeks ago it's actually me who wanted to ask you out but I was too shy' angle, God that dude may be a sociopath but he's also a _genius."_  
Ineloquence aside, Stan agreed with Kenny. Craig was an evil genius.  
"She definitely said yes?" Stan queried, his mouth feeling a little dry.  
"Even though he's best buds with the nefarious Tucker, it's Token man. He said he was there when it happened and he's as honest a source as any." Kenny groaned again. "That _bastard!_ Not that I can't work around this but it's going to take a bit of extra work…"  
Stan stared at his football helmet on the floor. Kyla and _Craig?_ It made no sense. It made Stan feel suddenly feel incredibly doubtful about his previous dismissal of the pool ever having a fruitful effect. He had to talk to Kyla.  
He waited for her at the end of the day outside her English class. When she walked out, in her own universe as usual, she almost walked straight past him until he reached out and pulled the collar of her jacket. She squealed as she stumbled back and glared at him.  
"You're lucky that was you, anyone else and I'd have-"  
"So why are you still glaring if you know it's me?" Stan grinned.  
"Because you're still an ass. What are you doing here? I was about to head over to the parking lot."  
"Yeah, I don't feel like giving multiple rides home today and I know Kenny and Cartman will be lurking out front for that very reason. Let's go through the back and I'll drive just us home."  
"It's so sweet of you to include me in your scheming."  
"Do you want a ride or not Broflovski?"  
"You're not brave enough to drive off without me and we both know it." Kyla began walking ahead of him in the direction of the back exit. They cut across the football field to the parking lot where Stan's truck was parked.  
"So the funniest thing happened in English." Kyla said as Stan started the truck. She reached over and rooted through the glove compartment for some Milk Duds she had left in there. "Ms Bloom was trying to explain the difference between Macduff and Macbeth to Clyde and the guy just wasn't getting it right, so she says, defeated, 'What would William Shakespeare make of you Clyde?' and Clyde looks simultaneously panicked and offended and says 'What does a politician have to do with witches?'"  
"Jeez," Stan guffawed, "I can't even laugh at that properly, it's a bit concerning."  
"I know right?" Kyle tilted her head back to tip Duds in to her mouth. As they slowed in to some traffic on Main, Stan clenched the steering wheel and said:  
"So I heard Craig asked you out." He took a quick breath. "And that you said yes."  
"Uh huh, aren't you pleased?"  
"What?" Stan couldn't help but turn to look at her incredulously.  
"Stan," Kyla laughed. "You've been bugging me forever to date 'before it's too late'. Craig's smart and I don't believe he meant to set fire to that farmer's crop so I didn't see the harm in a measly coffee date."  
"I, I, well I can't argue with your logic." Stan admitted, turning back to the traffic before sighing in exasperation and appealing to her again: "Just, _Craig?_ "  
Kyla shrugged. "Like I said, I don't think he meant-"  
"No, no, not that." Stan interjected although he was firmly convinced of Craig's guilt. "Just Craig in general. He doesn't seem like your kind of guy. I'd hate for you to date someone just because I teased you into it."  
"Stan if I did everything because you teased me I'd have done many stranger things by now." Kyla laughed. Stan grinned.  
"That's true." He conceded. The traffic began moving again.  
"Besides, you know Craig as a guy." Kyla continued. "The last girl he dated was Lola and even when they broke up she always said they just weren't into one another anymore but he had always behaved like a gentleman."  
"Mmm."  
"I think its sweet you're being protective though. I remember how protective I felt when you started dating Wendy for the umpteenth time but look how well that's still going."  
Wendy. Shit. He was supposed to drive her home after school and then they were going to the mall. Crap. Fuck.  
"Anyway, who do you think my kind of guy is if it's not Craig?" Kyla's voice rang through as Stan pulled up in front of her house. He wasn't sure who he was more anxious of right now, Kyla or Wendy.  
"Someone livelier, more charming. Like Kenny." Should Stan high-tail it back to school and hope Wendy was still there? Or go straight to her house and play it off like he thought they were supposed to meet there all along? Bebe would drive her home in that shiny red convertible her father had bought her when she barely passed her driver's test, surely.  
"Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow morning." He said. "Don't be late Ky." If he wasn't dead. Death by girlfriend.  
"It's Saturday tomorrow, Stan."  
"Right."  
He was staring straight ahead. As soon as Kyla got out of the car Stan leaned over and shut the door, barely mustering up an appropriate 'bye' before he sped off down the street. When she saw him turn back in the direction of school everything suddenly made much more sense and Kyla couldn't help but grin. He had forgotten Wendy. Doofus.

The next morning Stan was working on his car in the garage. He loved working on his car; he didn't have to think about anything, it just all went together smoothly. While his friends like Kyla, Token, even the neurotic Tweek, excelled in chemistry and biology and could work with abstract notions, Stan worked better with physical parts. He would crank open the garage door half-way so there was some light and fresh air but nobody could see him from the street and he could safely lose himself for hours and mull over things without interruption. Finding the school-lot to be empty yesterday he had promptly driven to Wendy's house and grovelled better than he ever had before. He'd completely forgotten about a last minute check-up at the dentist. He'd thought he'd make it back to school in time to pick her up but hadn't. He was really sorry. Wendy didn't look like she particularly believed him but she said nothing and Stan dared not push his luck by building on this fictitious scenario; they ended up going to the mall as originally planned so he didn't think he was in too much trouble.  
Stan had just finished his usual lunchtime pastrami sandwich while listening to the radio in the driver's seat when Randy Marsh swaggered in, his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, over which his beer belly protruded slightly.  
"Your mother told me I'd find you in here."  
"Yeah." Stan replied, brushing crumbs off his lap. "What's up?"  
"What's up? I'm here to lend a hand."  
"A hand to what?"  
"There's no greater American tradition than a father helping his son fix up his first car." Randy nodded, scratched his moustache, and stared at the truck. "So, where to begin?"  
"Well, it's already 'fixed up'." Stan said. "I did it over the summer; this is just maintenance so the engine doesn't freeze come November."  
"Ah."  
Stan pulled himself out of the cab. He looked around the garage. "You could help me polish her if you like." He offered.  
Randy wandered over to the bench and picked up a wrench. "I could tighten the hubcaps."  
"They're pretty much tightened."  
Randy nodded. Thankfully before he could attempt to cause any damage on Stan's car in the pursuit of pseudo-masculinity, a fiery head popped under the garage door.  
"Kyla, honey, hi there." Randy began waving the wrench about like he had been using it for a while. "We were just fixing up Stan's car."  
"Well it looks great Randy, Stan's lucky to have such a handy-man for a father." Kyla grinned as Stan glared at her. Randy looked pleased and put the wrench down.  
"Thanks Kyla, I'll uh, leave you kids alone." He said, puffing out his chest as he swaggered back through to the kitchen.  
"Do you _want_ to be smothered by a rag?" Stan asked.  
"Hey, I got rid of him for you, didn't I?"  
"I suppose…Wait, did we make plans?"  
"No but my great-aunt Miriam is in town." Kyla sighed.  
"Is this your namesake?" Stan grinned as his friend cringed. "Kyla Miriam Broflovski?"  
"If she'd had her way I would have been Beulah Broflovski."  
"I hope you realise I am one-hundred-percent going to call you Beulah from now on."  
"Alright, Randall." Kyla shot back with Stan's middle name.  
"Fair play Broflovski, fair play." It was now Stan suddenly clicked where Kyla had been that day.  
"So," Stan cleared his throat. "How was uh-how was, your date?"  
"Oh God," Kyla put a hand to her face then laughed. "Okay that was a bad idea."  
"Really?" Stan shot up. He tried to appear less enthusiastic. "Oh uh, why?"  
Kyla hoisted herself up on to the work-bench. "Well it started off kind of cool. After coffee we were walking down Main Street and we passed the book store where they had copies of _The Feminine Mystique_ in the window. Craig starts spouting words about how hyper-sensationalised the book is; I say sure, I can see why people would have that opinion in this decade but you couldn't deny that at the time it was ground-breaking. Craig starts doing these crazy hand movements and talking about the 'real oppressed people' and starts praising Marxism and Fidel Castro." Kyla paused. "And that wasn't even the thing that bothered me."  
"What was it?"  
"He straight-up assumed we were going to Winter Prom together after one date- and it wasn't that that bothered me either." Kyla looked at Stan incredulously. "He kicked a dog, Stan."  
" _What?"_  
"Yeah! While we were debating this little bichon-frise came running over, gave his jeans a tiny sniff and Craig practically punted the poor thing! The owner was horrified." Kyla sighed. "So that was the end of that."  
Stan stared at her. He laughed. He really started laughing. He had to lean on the car he was laughing so hard.  
"Alright, _alright._ What do you want me to say Stan?" Kyla sighed, though it was in jest. "That you were right? That I now, in fact, strongly believe Craig, while a nice-enough guy, is guilty-"  
"That is exactly what I wanted to hear." Stan said as he managed to straighten up.  
"God, how sad is it that my only invitation to the Winter Prom is now Craig."  
Stan was quiet.  
"I tell you," Kyla continued. "If you don't have a boyfriend or girlfriend the escort aspect sucks so bad, I don't like anyone enough to have as a date but I'm still not brave enough to go alone."  
"Go with me."  
"What?"  
"These things do suck. Let's go together, that way we know we'll have fun."  
"Stan, there's going with your friends, plural, and going with _a_ friend. Even you're not cool enough to escort your best friend to a dance."  
"I don't care. Let's do it, maybe we'll set a new trend."  
"Stan you can't."  
"Why not?"  
"Well, who would Wendy go with?"  
"Wendy?"  
Wendy. Crap.  
"Yeah, true. I suppose." Stan mumbled however Kyla didn't appear to notice his awkwardness.  
"Anyway, what I really came over for…" Kyla ducked back out of the garage and returned moments later with a white box. She walked over and handed it to Stan with a mischievous smile.  
"Aaand this is…Craig's heart, with a stake through it?" Stan asked her.  
"Well," Kyla tssked. "Don't say you never get any surprises I mean, do you know how hard that was to cut out? No, it's October 19th tomorrow, remember?"  
Stan opened the box. Inside was a cake glistening with caramel sauce.  
"Salted caramel." Said Kyla.  
Stan's favourite.  
"Wow, thanks. You're the first person who's gotten me anything." Stan smiled. "Oh my God it smells amazing. Do you want a piece?"  
"What? No! It's not your birthday until tomorrow. I only brought it round because the bakery isn't open on a Sunday. You have to save it."  
"Are you kidding me? How can I possibly resist this until tomorrow? Goddamit Ky."  
"Well I guess you can have a piece now…If you let me hang out here so I can avoid my Aunt Miriam."  
"Deal."  
"Excellent, soda?" Kyla didn't even wait for an answer, she practically skipped through to the kitchen where Stan knew she would head straight to the fridge for a Cola.  
Meanwhile he couldn't stop staring at the salted caramel cake. What was intended as a nice but simple gesture was actually the tip of the iceberg. Out of everything, his resentment at the pool, his jealousy, yes _jealousy_ towards someone like Craig Tucker, forgetting his girlfriend, they were all highly symbolic and yet, it was this little cake that triggered a monumental realisation within Stan.

The realisation that Stanley Marsh was in love with Kyla Broflovski.

* * *

 **I promise there's a generic teen party coming up, what can be more quintessentially rom-com?**


End file.
